


Même les Méchants Rêvent d'Amour

by lunastique



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Lawyer/Criminal, M/M, Regulus Black Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunastique/pseuds/lunastique
Summary: cw: mention/discussion of rape quite a few times





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [STHPDWSH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STHPDWSH/gifts).



 

 

**ABRAXIS CARROW’S SON ARRESTED FOR DRUG POSSESSION AND BRIBERY  
**

_The Londoner, November 1998_

Former Lieutenant Colonel in the British Army and soon-to-be candidate for Mayor of London Abraxis Carrow is known for his conservative, family-oriented values. With beautiful wife Calliope and 16-year-old twins Amycus and Alecto all involved in his political career, he has created the image of a perfect and united little family, never hiding his particular pride for his only son, expecting a lot for the young man's future. Sadly, this hasn’t kept the so-called prodigy from being arrested in the early hours of Sunday under the influence and in possession of a great quantity of drugs. Amycus Carrow proceeded to try to bribe and threaten the police officers, going as far as offering his drugs to the police officers in exchange for their silence about the whole affair. Perhaps he believed that because of his father's position the law didn't apply to him – and he may not have been far wrong, as he was out of jail only a few hours later, and all charges were dropped. The family still refuses to make any official statement, but with the campaign for Mayorship starting in a few weeks, one can wonder how this reckless behaviour will affect Amycus’s father, well-known for his “tough on crime” stance.

 

 

**BUSINESSMAN ORION BLACK KILLS HIMSELF AFTER LOSING FAMILY FORTUNE**

_The City Journal, May 1999_

Only a few weeks ago, the humiliating collapse of businessman Orion Black's financial reign over London made headlines. Ill placements and poor choices cost him the entire family fortune, which had been accumulated over generations and was estimated at half a billion pounds. Little did anyone know that this was only the beginning of a series of very unfortunate events for the Black family.

Orion was found dead in his office yesterday morning, at the age of 51. The results of the autopsy are still to be officially announced, but confirmed sources have deemed it a suicide, adding that he left nothing but debt and shame to his family. He leaves behind his widow Walburga Black and two young sons aged 12 and 13. Now that the Blacks are penniless and dealing with a shameful scandal, the aristocratic elite of London has already stopped sending invitations to 12 Grimmauld Place – which, rumor has it, Orion lost in a last-resort mortgage placement a couple of days before killing himself. There is no doubt that once the required condolences are sent, the formerly all-powerful family will find itself very lonely and will, sadly for them, have to learn to live like the rest of us.

 

 

**MAYOR CARROW HAS NO CONTROL OVER HIS SON**

_The Londoner, March 2009_

Twenty-six-year-old Amycus Carrow has been known to be a reckless and spoiled brat for over ten years now – spending his time partying to excess, getting into fights, and being extremely obnoxious in front of cameras at every chance he gets. With eight arrests under his belt but still no criminal record, he is a stain on the much-cultivated image of the united Carrow family. After showing up drunk to his father’s campaign dinner nine years ago, Amycus has not stopped causing trouble for his family and the people of London in general. Thankfully, the Conservative electorate doesn't seem to blame the father for his son's lapses, given that the man was elected for a second term. Last year, Amycus was seen fooling around with an unknown man in a car he had just stolen; last week he drunkenly assaulted a police officer (and not for the first time), to name but a few of his public stunts. Although Abraxis is usually very open with the media, his son is a topic that he still refuses to breach with us. Meanwhile, his daughter Alecto continues to make a name for herself through a minor career in modelling and the launching of a make-up brand. Maybe she could teach her twin brother a thing or two about respect and human decency.

 

 

**REGULUS BLACK COMES HOME TO START HIS OWN LAW FIRM**

_The Londoner, January 2014_

Regulus Black, child prodigy turned pariah due to the sins of his father, has returned to his homeland. After fleeing England and his family’s scandals for several years, the youngest Black arrived in London a couple of weeks ago, apparently to stay. Everyone remembers the series of tragedies that plagued the Black family fifteen years ago: formerly rich and powerful, Orion Black lost every last penny he had before killing himself, leaving his wife and two young sons poverty-stricken and on their own. After being rejected by most of London's high society, his widow started working, the boys integrated into a mainstream school and the name Black soon became another fallen kingdom. But it seems like Blacks cannot stay away from the limelight for too long; only a few years later, Sirius Black was rebelling and getting himself arrested, Walburga developed a drinking problem and the family imploded all over again. Sirius, 16 at the time, ran away, and a year later Regulus graduated early and went to America on his own. The years he spent on the other side of the Atlantic seem to have saved him from the terrible fates of the rest of the family; having graduated from Harvard Law, he worked in prestigious law firms and won landmark cases, becoming a prominent public figure before his thirtieth birthday – something that would’ve seemed impossible if he’d stayed in London. But with news of his mother falling sick, Regulus Black, now 27, is back in the city and, according to our sources, planning to set up his very own law firm right here. Seeing the things he has accomplished while away from the toxicity of London aristocratic society, there is no doubt the dashing – and supposedly single – stud has a chance at restoring the Black prestige.

 

 

**AMYCUS CARROW ARRESTED FOR MURDER**

_The London Times, March, 13_ _th_ _2015_

This Saturday morning, model Amycus Carrow, son of former London Mayor and current MP Abraxis Carrow, was arrested at his London flat for the murder of an 18-year-old college student who was found strangled to death a few streets away from his home. The well-known party-goer was seen leaving a party with the young woman the night before, making him the last known person to see her alive. Known for his excesses, his violence and substance abuse, it seems like Amycus Carrow’s love for attention and petty crime has now taken a very dramatic turn - one that his MP father will not be able to bail him out of and that may well, for the first time in his life, translate itself into an actual conviction. The case, which promises to be heavily publicised, has dealt a blow to London’s old-money elite whose life is full of drugs, alcohol and other excesses. This reminds everyone of the risks behind such behaviour and the kinds of people hide behind said behaviours. It is only too bad that it took the death of a promising young woman to wake them up.


	2. Regulus

It's not every day that prominent lawyer Regulus Black has the time to enjoy a nice breakfast on his marble patio before going to work – meaning, it’s the first time in months. But today is the first day since winning the biggest and most time-consuming case of his career yet, so he only feels mildly uncomfortable at the idea of getting to work an hour late today.

It's a lovely morning, with the crisp air of winter but already a taste of spring in the way the sun shines and warms his skin. It's nice for once, not thinking about anything but the quality of his eggs as he sits in the backyard of his country house, sipping a cup of tea far from the noise and lights of London. The last three months have kept him quite busy trying to save the biggest organ traffickers of England from going to prison for their crimes. Of course he won, but not without a few altercations and bruises on the way – which make hearing birds sing at dawn a very enjoyable alternative.

But then, reality crashes again and breaks the lyricism of the moment as his professional phone rings. He hasn’t even had time to open the paper yet. Of course he could take another well-deserved hour to enjoy the morning and no one could or would say anything about it – but that would be like asking him not to breathe. He didn’t get where he is today by not showing up to work when his phone rings. Work always comes first; so he sighs and takes one last look at the peaceful garden before grabbing his keys and walking to his car.

When he’s inside, he allows himself to call the office back. The call was from his secretary, Emma, which tells him that he was right to take it; she wouldn’t disturb him if not absolutely necessary. She's the one constantly advocating for him to take a break and work less.

“Good morning Emma, what is it today?"

"There is someone for you in the lobby, Mr. Black,” she answers flatly, knowing very well that he’s nowhere near the lobby at this time of the day. He sighs. He can tell by the tone of her voice that this someone is probably very rich and convinced that they're important enough to be rude to his secretary and demand Regulus be called directly instead of waiting in the lobby or making an appointment like normal people. Those are the worst. Their cases are never challenging; any firm could take care of a messy divorce or a stash of heroin found at the office; but they want him because he’s expensive and his name is associated with success, wealth, and everything he dislikes about London society.

Unfortunately, he is a businessman about as much as he is a lawyer, and if he wants to be able to win unwinnable cases pro-bono, he has to make sure the money comes from somewhere. It's also nice sometimes to deal with good old cases that involve neither perjuring himself nor saving despicable human beings from getting what they deserve.

"I'll be here in half an hour, keep them entertained,” he says before hanging up. Another fun day in perspective, he thinks as he goes above the speed limit. He didn't even think to ask the person's name, which makes him wince. Regulus hates to come unprepared.

 

* * *

 

Regulus has been working for eight hours straight when he finally catches a second to breathe. After the widow who confused him with a serial killer and asked him to get her rid of her daughter-in-law, he had to meet with a scottish businessman condemned for money laundering. The man’s case was so easy, it got delegated to one of the new interns. When he’d thought his morning finally over, a CEO he'd kept from spending the rest of his life in jail insisted on taking him to lunch in a fancy restaurant to thank him and, apparently, propose a special business arrangement. Politely refusing to take part in illegal activities twice in one day seems about the average rate. This is probably what you get being the go-to lawyer of some of the worst criminals of Europe.

Sitting in his way-too-expensive armchair for the first time of the day, Regulus finally breathes. Of course, his phone rings at that exact moment. Sometimes he feels like throwing the thing from his fourteenth floor office, but then again Emma wouldn't be too happy about it. The very reason she has to call him on his cellphone is because three weeks ago he threw his office phone accross the room when it woke him up from a nap. So, really, it's his fault.

“No” he answers childishly.

“Lucius Malfoy is here to see you, sir,” she answers in a voice that clearly indicates the man is right in front of her, listening to her every word and making sure she's transferring the message. Regulus hates everyone.

“Can you ask Mr. Malfoy to come back tomorrow ? I'm quite busy."

“I'm afraid he's being insistent. Something about a murder charge,” she seems quite distressed, which makes Regulus mad. That old Malfoy was probably rude and condescending, as he usually is.

“Let him in,” he says with a long sigh. He gives himself one second to be a child about how hard life is before standing up, checking his suit, his face and the state of his office. He may be a bit melodramatic when he's in friendly company, but in public he's always this cool, controlled self. And there's no way a Malfoy is going to see him with his jacket open, his feet on a table and a pout on his face.

It doesn't take the man long to get inside. Lucius Malfoy is the spitting image of his father ; blond, tall, looking trim and expensive, falling short of threatening, despite trying quite hard. Regulus nods and shakes his hand politely before pointing him to his perfectly organized desk.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy ?,” he asks politely.

“Mr. Black. Long time no see.”

“Indeed. I hope you’re doing well.” Lucius Malfoy and him shared the same playdates, the same childhood friends and endless social gatherings when they were kids. They were in the same group of friends, running around and causing havoc in their rich parents' properties until he was 12. His wife is Regulus’ cousin and his childhood best friend. But all of that was before the demise of the family and his escape to America.  A lot happen in the past fifteen years, and he's been back in London for almost two years now, so seeing any of those people hasn't caused a reaction in him in a long time. No matter how much he's changed since they were friends, he quickly realized that they haven't, and doesn't really have any interest in joining the clique again, so he's mostly indifferent.

Malfoy seems in quite the hurry to explain the situation, so Regulus lets him talk. “Well, I’m sure you’ve read the paper. I won’t lie, I’ve been better.” Of course, today is the first day in a while he has actually not read the paper.

“I must admit, I don’t really have time to read _The Londoner_ these days. But pray tell, what happened ?” This was low, and not really the image he wants to have or the person he wants to be. There's just something about the London elite that sends him back 15 years and makes him want to be petty. Of course Malfoy wasn’t talking about the gossipy rag that calls itself a newspaper. 

It must be quite serious because the only response this gets from Malfoy is a sigh.

“My friend has just been arrested for murder.” Well well well, now he understands why Malfoy isn’t already threatening him to send him back to the States without his balls. He actually needs him.

“That's too bad. Did they do it ?," he inquires casually. If Lucius is coming to him, it means they did it. No one would pay that much for an innocent. 

A silence. “Probably. Can you represent him?” Regulus is curious as to which friend this is about, and how bad it is, but not enough to ask now nor worry about it in front of Malfoy. He'll take the case and have to hope that it's not too much of a twisted thing, or that the killer isn't one of the undefendable assholes of the bunch like Lestrange. 

“Can they afford me?," he asks. 

“Yes."

“Then I believe we have a deal. Give the information to Emma on your way out, I'll study the case and get in touch with them as soon as it's useful.” Regulus gets up and extends his hand, clearly indicating to Malfoy that his time is up.

 


	3. Amycus

Amycus is quite literally going to kill somebody if he doesn't get out right this second. He’s been waiting between the walls of a very small cell for the past hour and a half, and still no one has come for him. Not that police stations and drunk tanks are an unusual way to end a good night, but this time somehow seems different – he’s usually released in the hour. Neither his friends nor his father would let him suffer through two hours in a police station without coming to get him. They know how he gets with authority, which usually means that spending any kind of time in the company of law enforcement has high risks of multiplying the charges against him at record-breaking speed.

All this time spent trying to ignore the lack of breathing space has allowed Amycus to think about how weird this morning actually was. Where he usually ends up getting arrested while drunk or high for some offense or other, he doesn’t remember yesterday being that wild a night. Instead, he distinctly recalls the police waking him up at nine in the morning, tackling him to the floor, cuffing and sending him to an individual cell. He’s never been tossed in an individual holding cell like that, like he’s a fucking criminal. They purposefully came looking for him in his own house, didn’t tell him why, and now he doesn’t have enough space to breathe.

There’s also something weird going on with the officers. Where they usually sneer at him or insult him a couple of times while they can – that is, until the family lawyer swoops in and gets him out –, here they’ve all been oddly silent and unresponsive to his insults. They usually at least try to make his hangover miserable by making a lot of noise, but this morning, nothing. They’re all going about their day, taking the extra precaution not to make eye contact with him. Even the officers he’s very familiar with haven’t acknowledged him. Only good old Hagrid, who he doesn’t despise as much as the others and who’s been arresting him since he was 16 has dared looking at him a couple of times, sighing but still not saying anything.

Once he’s exhausted himself shouting at them, he just walks aimlessly around his crappy cell, trying his damn hardest not to have a panic attack – who the fuck do they think they are, keeping him from his right to have a phone call. He's been arrested countless times, but has almost never set a foot in jail, his father usually intervening before then, more for his own reputation than because he cares how terrified of enclosed spaces Amycus is. Usually he just has to wait on a chair for his father’s lawyer to pick him up; but today, no one is coming for him, the walls of his cell seem like they're closing in on themselves, and he still has no idea what the hell he's being detained for.

It takes Amycus a good two hours to be able to calm down and realize that shouting himself hoarse is not going to get him any kind of help. He's now sitting on the floor, his head between his knees, trying to focus on his breathing while his eyes are locked on the dirty floor. He literally has no idea what he's done, for once. Sure, there might have been quite a lot of drugs going around at Rab's party last night, and he definitely drove home drunk while the blonde he was with gave him a handjob in the car. But he wasn’t caught red-handed doing that, and even if he had, he’d have probably slipped through the net because officers would have known nothing would come out of arresting him.

After almost three hours, Amycus starts not only panicking, but getting angry, when finally, an officer comes with the keys to open his cell. A smug grin makes its way onto his lips: finally. Somehow his father must have heard about the incident and arranged everything, despite being three bloody hours late. It’s been way too long for his liking, but he’s finally free. ''Turn around,'' says the officer, getting a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. What? He’s been handcuffed before, but certainly not on his way out of the cell. They don’t have the right to handcuff him if he’s officially being released. That’s definitely abuse of power. Fucking arseholes.

''What the fuck?!,” he asks with a voice a little too high-pitched and panicked for his liking.  
''If I was you, I wouldn't put up a fight,'' answers the officer, interrupting the incoming monologue of the detained. ''I'm not sure you got enough years in your life to ever see the light of day again. No need to add to your case now.''

It suddenly hits him. He isn't free at all, he’s just being moved. No one has come to save him. Because that’s what he does, Amycus huffs and rolls his eyes, but turns around and lets himself being handcuffed, too happy to get out of the cell. He reminds himself that this is probably a mistake that he’ll sue them for, and that he can get out of anything anyway. No matter how many police officers he spits on or road signs he knocks over, he’s a Carrow, and he can get away with everything.

But as he’s pushed around the station and half of the officers stop to look at him from the corner of their eyes, another realization hits him. Something else is going on here. Something big happened, and he’s being properly arrested for it, and no one he knows is here to get him out of it. Which makes him more angry and resentful than curious. Whatever the fuck is going on, his father or his siter should already be here, taking care of it, taking care of him.

He is led roughly and silently to an interrogation room, something he’d never even set a foot in despite having been in this place over a dozen times. Some random bloke he’s never seen before is already sitting at the table, and they sit Amycus down in front of him before linking his cuffs to the table and leaving him to face the greasy-haired arse who appears to be wearing a cheap greenish suit.

''Hello, Mr. Carrow. I am Mr. Ketteridge, and I will be your lawyer on this particular case. I was assigned automatically, as you do not have a lawyer and your father has declined you the use of Mr. Dolohov in this situation, as I’m sure you know. However, I have had a lengthy conversation with the man, since I understand he has dealt with you quite a lot in the past, and am up to date on all of your… complications with the judicial system. I am aware of your record and all of the past arrangements that have been made. Of course, this is going to be a much more complicated case to handle than petty crime or larceny, but rest assured that I will represent you in the best of my ability.”

Amycus frowns. What the hell. This sweating fidgety excuse for a man cannot possibly be his new lawyer. Where is Mr. Dolohov. His father has been threatening to stop “lending” him the family lawyer lately, but that was hot air. Carrows do not give up on eachother. Abraxis Carrow has stuck by his raucous son while campaigning for Mayor and MP, so why would he not stand by him now? Even though they quite surely all hate each other behind closed doors, if the Carrows are known for something it’s that family goes first, especially when the public eye is involved. Always.

He hesitates between asking for clarifications and throwing the table in the bloke’s face, but ends up picking a middle ground solution.

“Where’s Mr. Dolohov?,” he asks harshly.  
Tweed vest sighs. ''I'm a duty solicitor, and your lawyer from now on. Rest assured that I have all the information Mr. Dolohov ever had. Your father has been made aware of your arrest, just like the rest of the city, but does not wish to put his personal lawyer at your disposal this time, probably because of the gravity of the situation. He wants to teach you a lesson, if you want my opinion.''  
“I don’t want your goddamn opinion, he snaps, I want to get the fuck out of here.” This has to be a mistake. His father would not give up on him. Not with the General Elections coming up and… Wait. What if… Holy fuck.

Despite his connexions, Abraxis didn’t get a position in the government five years ago. But with Thicknesse probably becoming Prime Minister in the coming months, this time he really has a shot at being named for the Ministry of Defence, which is all the man’s been talking about for years. Maybe this is finally the title that will be worth more to him than the image of a united family. Maybe publicly helping his son escape justice on a weekly basis was what cost him the position the first time; but now, publicly condemning Amycus’ behaviour could actually get him the bloody Ministry.

This has to be a mistake. It is all absolutely ridiculous. What the hell is he even being detained for ? He’s pretty sure it’s illegal not even knowing what the charges are against him. He doesn’t even remember what happened last night, and now there's a clown in front of him pretending to be his lawyer.

“I want to see my father.” Maybe he can beg him for help one last time, promise he will change and start helping puppies and orphans. But the man in front of him only sighs, shaking his head like he's getting annoyed – as if he had any right to be.  
“Listen, Mr. Carrow. Your father does not wish to get involved in the situation. I was appointed to be your solicitor, and seeing the amount of evidence they have against you only hours after the murder, I would advise you to cooperate with me. I seem to be the only person on your team right now.”

The room stills for a second. “Wait, what ? Murder?”

A curt, short nod from the solicitor, who is starting to look red in the face. “You were arrested for the murder of Lily Winterbottom, and eighteen-year-old girl who was found strangled to death this morning in an alleyway behind your residence. Numerous witnesses saw you leaving the party in her company, and there is evidence that she spent the night in your room. This is serious, Mr. Carrow. No amount of money can cover up a murder that's already making headlines across the city, maybe even the country by tonight. Moreover, I can’t think of any judge or jury that will feel merciful towards of all people. So if you don’t want to spend the next sixty years behind bars, I suggest you start working with me here.”

 

* * *

 

The worst is probably that he has no idea whether he's done it or not.

Instinctively, he's pretty sure he hasn't. The girl was sweet if a bit dumb, and she definitely seemed like she was into him. There was no reason for it to go wrong, and he wouldn't have been stupid enough to kill her. But when he finally stops completely freaking out and yelling at his garbage lawyer long enough to listen to what the man has to say, he understands how this looks like. There is all the evidence necessary to prove that he definitely did it. He has the record, he was completely wasted, he is a violent man, and she was in his room hours if not minutes before she died.

No matter how sweet a lover he is, he knows how he becomes once alcohol and drugs get involved. He’s going through a rough patch lately, and those are the worst. He doesn’t admit, and his don’t talk about it, but he knows how he gets. His hand always gets a little heavier when bourbon’s involved.

“Can I get out of this ?,” he asks in a surprisingly broken voice after half an hour of screaming and throwing Ketteridge’s files in his face. He’s finally starting to realize that this time everything is different. He realizes that it might be it, that he might spend the rest of his life among dirty old pedophiles between four very, very small walls. He needs to get his shit together, and most specifically, his father needs to get his shit together and send him a lawyer that can make a murder charge disappear.

“Not without hard years. This is serious, Mr. Carrow. I will of course do my best to get you the best arrangement possible, but you have to confess. The evidence is way too overwhelming for us to be able to afford losing time with the innocent card. You need to admit, and then show how sorry you are, for this and everything that has happened in the last fifteen years. Maybe we can get a ten year deal if you give them what they want, like names for some sort of criminal traffic, drug dealers, maybe some money laundering or corruption you know of… Take a couple of your rich friends down, prepare to open your trust fund, and take some acting classes. You’re going to have to lie through your teeth and make them believe you’ve come to reason and want to repent for your crimes – but preferably not in prison.”

“I’m not confessing a murder I didn't commit,” he says without thinking. He hasn’t really had time to think about all of it yet. The news that he possibly killed some girl was sprung on him less than half an hour ago, and all he knows is that the evidence says he did it, that he was drunk, and that he doesn’t have any memory of not doing it. But he is going to need more time to accept and comes to term with the fact that he killed someone this morning.

“Now, now. There’s no need to lie to me. As I’ve said before, I'm probably the only person on your side in the entire country right now. My job isn't to care about your being guilty but to prevent that from sending you to jail for the rest of your life.” Amycus is dumb-struck; maybe his past behaviour hasn't always been irreproachable, but this man is way too quick to brand him a murderer.

“Look, I'm pretty sure I didn't kill that girl. This thing is going to ruin me. So just do your damn job and get me out of this fucking mess, okay ?,” he starts screaming again, jaw and fists clenching in frustration. “And I want my fucking phone call.”

Apparently, no matter how much Amycus raises his voice or repeats he is innocent, it doesn't change the bloke's idea about him, who rolls his eyes at that. Fucking prejudiced arsehole. “I'll see about the phone call. But don't bother wasting it to call your father; I already did and he is in no way inclined to help you, or you know he would have done so before the story hit the front page of every newspaper in town.”

After a curt nod, the man gets up. What is he supposed to do now? Is he supposed to wait in the cell and watch all the officers he’s talked down to for years gloat at his fate? His father can at least get him out of prison until the trial, or whatever’s supposed to happen after.

“And what happens now? Where the fuck do you think you’re going?,” he shouts at the man’s back.

“I'll see you in two days, when you'll be brought in front of the judge for the hearing of the charges. Then we'll have an idea of what we're up against, see if bail can even be considered, which is honestly unlikely. It's no use for me to stay here for another forty-eight hours only to get yelled at when you're the one who's just killed a young woman, Mr. Carrow, not me. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Amycus doesn’t even know how to answer that. How does this arsehole dare speak to him like that? But before he starts yelling at him the greasy-haired solicitor is already gone, and Amycus can’t even get up because he’s still cuffed to the table. For a very pathetic couple of minutes, he sits there as reality sinks in. He’s handcuffed to a table in a shithole police station, for a murder he may or may not have committed but will definitely be convicted for, his lawyer looks like a useless, small and sweaty insurance man, he has to wait in a cell for another forty-eight hours – and possibly another decade or two after that, and his father has completely given up on him for political reasons. What a good weekend.


	4. Out With the Old

When you think about it, it's not _entirely_ Regulus' fault. It's a shared responsibility, really. His pride wanted to make a statement by not bringing Malfoy’s friend’s file home ; then the cleaning ladies confused it for an old folder and put it on the wrong pile ; then Sunday came, which meant another dinner with Walburga, and another fight with Walburga. On Monday, he discovered that his client happened to be a rapist _during_ the man’s trial, which is never good when you’re supposed to defend the bloke, and one thing leading to another, Amycus Carrow found himself at the bottom of the pile, his case not being looked at for another three days. In the judicial field, especially at the beginning of a publicized trial for murder, a lot can happen in three days.

Regulus really does not like the melodramatic entitled ways of the London bourgeoisie, so when Lucius Malfoy storms in his office and starts shouting at him, he only manages to accept it because he knows that he fucked up big time. He was supposed to have Emma send him the information on the man’s case the very evening he came to his office, but he got... distracted. Which is not an excuse. He may hate people like Lucius Malfoy and Amycus Carrow, but he is a professional, and he deals with – helps, even – people he is profoundly repulsed by every day. He’s good at his job because feelings never get in his way when it is about professional matters.

But now he’s being rightfully shouted at by an angry Malfoy because he forgot the file on his desk for _three damn days_ and didn’t look at it once. Because he was so busy for the past couple of days, he only heard about the Carrow case this morning, and suddenly remembered Malfoy’s “friend” being in trouble. It’s bad. From what he’s read, the press, the city, and his own family have already deemed the man guilty – and the evidence does not seem to contradict that. Regulus likes challenges, but tackling this before it got so much exposure might have been a good idea.

“Please calm down, Mr. Malfoy,” he begins with a tone so uptight and composed you’d think he’s at a Sacred Twenty-Eight fundraiser. “Now. I believe you're under the false impression that I've been ignoring Mr. Carrow. Nevertheless, I've been studying the case and following the investigation. I didn't believe it necessary to have a meeting with him quite yet as there is nothing he could tell me that I need to hear. I have followed the arraignment and am planning on meeting with your friend this afternoon to help me further my preparation of the preliminary hearing, which is in eight days, so next Wednesday if I’m not mistaken.” Regulus tries not to be too smug, but he is quite proud of the little tirade he manages to string together on the spot – and thanks to the succinct report Emma put together in about twelve seconds before sending it to him.

The man in front of him narrows his eyes, clearly trying to control his anger at being talked down to. “I hope for you you know what you're doing,” he snaps, despite being the one who came to Regulus for help in the first place. “Because if not, it's not only the Malfoys you'll have to answer to but Abraxis Carrow.” And really, Regulus can't help but smile in that moment. See, the gossip column of the newspaper is kind of his guilty pleasure. And if he can recall correctly what he read over this morning’s coffee, Mr. Carrow doesn’t seem very involved in Amycus' defence – some might say he’s even publicly distancing himself from his son’s fate.

Besides, Regulus has had lunch half a dozen times with Abraxis since he came back from Washington, which is probably more than his own son did, so really, the threat appears quite empty. His own generation may still be stuck in the embarrassing gossip columns and clique wars phase despite them not getting any younger, but Regulus was never part of it. Excluded from the elite until he left England for over a decade and came back an accomplished lawyer and businessman, he never had the opportunity to model and party and use family money to make headlines. Instead, he linked up with their parents. He became their lawyer, their consultant, their business associates. He made himself indispensable to the most powerful.

Indeed, if the new generation is quick to brand his family pariahs, his father’s old associates know never to underestimate a Black. Everyone in their circle knows, or at least suspects, that what happened to Orion wasn’t just bad luck and shame. He was starting to get a little too powerful, and somebody made sure he didn’t overstep them. So when Regulus Black came back to the country, already powerful and not needing any of them to rise above his family’s scandals, they knew he shouldn’t be overlooked. This whole ordeal may be quite entertaining, what with the Carrow son being behind bars and the Malfoy son giving him orders, but he really can’t be bothered to babysit today.

“Understood. Now can you please leave my office before I have to call in security? I believe I have a murderer to get out of prison,” he adds before sitting down and looking down at some – admittedly blank – papers. He doesn't raise his head when he hears a huff and loud steps getting out. Emma's in his office the next second, and he’s firing orders before she can even get all the way to his desk. “I need everyone available on this. Carrow's arrest was last weekend. I want to know every single thing that has already happened, where is the investigation at, a complete transcript of the arraignment, the prosecutor's strategy, the witnesses we knows of, lunch with the chief inspector in charge and a meeting with Carrow before tonight. We have work to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

It's been three days already, and Amycus is going insane. He hasn't even been able to shave, the outfit he was given is downright humiliating, everyone around him seems like they want to either fuck or kill him, probably both, everything smells bad, it's boring, too small, there's not enough air, he wants to murder everybody, and it looks like it’s going to be that way for another thirty years. He's never really stopped to think about it, but now that he has all the time in the world to do so, he can say that prison definitely is not for him.

When the disgusting bald guard comes to get him and take him to another meeting with his poor excuse of a lawyer, he almost wants to fight not to go. So far, the guy has been nothing but painfully useless to him, and Amycus is pretty sure every time the man opened his mouth he's made his case worse. Every phone call the new prisoner spent has been to his father, who doesn't even dignify them with an answer. Alecto came to visit yesterday but she couldn’t stay long. It was nice thought – she said she got in a fight with their father but was trying to get him out with Lucius and Rab’s help. Hopefully they’ll think of hiring someone to kill his solicitor first.

Because he is a Reasonable Man, Amycus sits down quietly in front of Ketteridge. From what he can gather from the past few days, he's been condemned (or is about to?) for murder, and the police isn't even looking for another suspect. He didn’t really pay attention, admittedly, but it’s looking bad. His lawyer doesn’t seem to know much more about the case than he does with that, which makes Amycus want to cry and smack his head against the metal table repeatedly. He's already spent the past three ways yelling at everyone who would listen and now his throat hurts and his eyes are too heavy. He's tried to fight, but it's like a fucking nightmare he can't wake up from. There's no one to come save him, so he's just going to have to powerlessly watch his life get ruined by a crime he can't remember committing – by now, Ketteridge has convinced him that no matter his selective amnesia, he _has_ killed that girl. And it's going to send him to prison for the rest of his life.

As Ketteridge tries to find his way around an unbelievably useless quantity of paper, the door to the crappy prison room they've been meeting in opens abruptly. A guard, followed by a man he’s never seen before, enter. The bloke looks sharp, with an expensive suit hiding what looks like a strong body and cold blue eyes. For a second there, Amycus, who has gotten quite delirious with all the insomnia and disgusting prison food he hasn’t been eating, thinks that this is some kind of last gift before spending a life in prison, an hour with a handsome rent boy in a three-piece in a prison room. He soon realizes that it’s realistically unlikely, but it was a nice thought.

Upon seeing the man in a suit, the solicitor stands up, looking like a kid caught stealing brownies. The contrast is quite stark between the greasy-haired man in a cheap maroon suit and the young, very hot dark-haired man. Amycus just sits back to enjoy the show, because this is probably the most entertaining thing he’s going to see in the next two to three years.

“Mr. Black,” the solicitor says. Apparently, they know each other already. Interesting. And Amycus should know him, too, considering the family name. Looking at him a second time, there is no doubt that he is from those Blacks. Polished, distinguished, arrogant… Seems about right. But Cissy’s side only has daughters, which mean this is one of the Black sons. Probably the young one, he heard someone mentioning he was back in town.  
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I remember your name,” answers Black.  
“Ketteridge. I’m sorry, what are you doing here? I was just in a meeting with my client over here and—”

Finally Black turns and looks at Amycus for the first time since he entered the room. Well damn, those eyes. “Yes, about that. I am Mr. Carrow's new lawyer, so I believe you're done here. Thank you for your work in the past few days.” The tone is final, and quite fake – at least someone noticed how terrible a job the man’s been doing. Ketteridge is about to protest, but looks back and forth between Amycus and Black, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, before sighing and apparently giving up. Good boy.  
“Alright. Do you want to discuss—“  
“We’ll be alright. Thank you,” Black cuts him, already taking his seat and unbuttoning his jacket, which hey, Amycus is all for. Damn if five days in prison haven’t made him horny; it’s quite sad, really.

Once the poor man is out of the room, a heavy silence settles while the new lawyer looks at his papers and gets his things out. Amycus uses that time to look at him. He doesn’t remember the Black kids; he’s not even sure he ever mixed with the younger one. He knows Rab and Lucius knew him back in the day, and Cissy and Bella are his cousins. Cissy has always refused to discuss repudiated family, but the rest of his friends never had a lot of good to say about the Blacks. They all turned bad when the father killed himself, and right in front of the cameras with that. From what he’s heard, it’s not a crowd he wants to mingle with, but he has to admit that the kid cleans up nice.

“Let’s get started, shall we ? I was hired by Mr. Malfoy to represent you instead of the appointed solicitor. My name is Regulus Black. Since your father doesn’t want anything to do with this, Mr. Dolohov will also stay away from the case. Looks like it's just you and me.” Well, that's fine by Amycus too. He doesn’t say anything and lets him keep going.

“I’ll just recap what’s happened so far, and you stop me if I’m mistaken. The arraignment was yesterday morning; it was stated that you are being charged with second-degree murder. The victim is eighteen-year-old Lily Winterbottom, who you were last seen with early Sunday morning while the two of you were headed to your flat, is that right ?” Amycus nods. “Fine. The prosecutor's evidence is pretty heavy, so you’re going to have to help me out here if we want to get you off.”

“Get me off?,” Amycus cuts him. “As in no conviction?” He doesn’t even mention the pun because he’s so shocked by what he just heard. In three days, the solicitor went from we-can-hope-for-ten-years to you’re-looking-at-twenty-minimum.

“Well, I don’t know about no conviction. For that, we would need the charges to be dropped completely and you to be declared innocent. We’ll try of course, but it seems quite idealistic. However, with a skilful defence and a generous bail, we could look at a few months of house arrest or some community work.”

Amycus can’t believe what he’s hearing. No prison? He’s pretty sure he’s getting delirious. For the past three days, everybody has turned their backs on him. He may have killed a girl. Apparently, everyone who ever rubbed shoulders with him is talking about what a disgrace he’s always been. He was so convinced that he was looking at years of prison, and here comes this man in a fancy suit and watch, telling him he’s here to get him out of prison. He can’t believe it.

Amycus nods, speechless. “Hm—that—yeah, that sounds okay. Good. So how do we do this?”


	5. Lucky Day

The next time the two men see eachother, four days have passed, Amycus is free, and Regulus is exhausted. They’re meeting in the lawyer's office, at Regulus’ request, in order to discuss what really happened a week ago.

The morning after their first meeting, Regulus was in front of the judge at 8 in the morning, negotiating the bail the solicitor didn’t even bother to ask for. It was a tedious morning of arguing, pulling strings and augmenting in favour of a man he has little respect for, but he did it. No matter his efforts though, the bail was set to half a billion pounds; it would appear that when Mr. Carrow’s political power isn’t involved, Amycus Carrow isn’t a very popular man with the judicial power. It's no surprise, really. Regulus finds the guy rude and arrogant, and he has yet to open his mouth.

The lawyer didn’t bother stopping by the prison to tell the news to his client; he had Emma warn Malfoy of the bail and the conditions, and let the men deal with it themselves. He heard that Carrow had cut Amycus off financially, but he must have have good friends since the next morning, pictures of him around London were making the front page of the Londoner.

“So, Mr. Black. What’s on the agenda today?,” he asks with a haughty grin. The man in front of him is already very different from the poor inmate of four days ago; all the self-importance is back, for one thing. He didn’t even bother thanking Regulus for getting him out of prison less than twenty-four hours after becoming his lawyer. But Regulus is too tired to deal with it, so he just lets it slide. He’s really starting to miss his old embezzlement and insurance fraud cases.

“My people have been investigating the case, interviewing your neighbors and your friends, learning about the girl. For now, nothing's come out useful for the defense, so I need your help to direct our searches. We need to find a hole in their strategy or someone to pin this on,” he says without sparing a look for his client. “Grand Jury is in ten days, and since everyone wants to see you behind bars for the rest of your life, we really need solid elements by then.”

Amycus rolls his eyes like being here bores him to death. Regulus tries hard not to show his annoyance; he's a professional, he’s used to dealing with these people. They’ve been ungrateful their whole life, to everyone. But they pay him enough for him not to be hurt when he busts his ass night and day for them and is met with nothing but contempt. “We’ll also have to organize a press conference, but we’ll do that in a couple of weeks.”

Amycus still doesn’t say anything, crouching on the chair facing the desk. Regulus looks at the man's blue eyes – it really is a pity that he's such an asshole. And wow, he was _not_ expecting that thought to cross his mind. Heaven knows Regulus completely dissociates work from personal life, especially considering his history. Hanging among the rich, beautiful and eccentric elite of the country, temptation often arises. But he never allows himself to act on it, no matter how easily he could with some of his more eager clients. Thank God Carrow is the embodiment of everything he hates in a person, so there’s no risk of complications. “Do you have any question before we move on?”

 

* * *

 

 _Do you want to have sex on that desk of yours ?_ Is really the only question that comes to Amycus' mind in that moment. He's not going to ask it out loud, at least not today, because he really doesn't want Black to drop him and end up in jail for the rest of his life. He doesn't even know if the guy is into blokes; he's fucking unreadable. After a day of celebrating getting out of prison, Amycus spent hours researching what he could on his new lawyer, but nothing of substance came out on that front.

Turns out the guy is very respected in the business, despite his young age and, in Amycus' professional opinion, his very good looks. He doesn't ever make the scandal or gossip column if not for his good looks and rich bachelor status; however, his name isn’t unfamiliar to the business and judiciary pages of more respected newspapers. Right before Am got arrested he even won a serious case that made headlines, about human trafficking or something else equally morbid. So, all in all, Amycus needs him more than he needs Amycus or his money.

It's very impressive but also kind of annoying, because Am usually frequents people you can very easily find dirt on. Black’s father's suicide and his family's descent to hell could be considered dirt, but when you see what the man has made of himself despite it, that just makes him even more... clean. His personal life is completely hidden from the spotlight, even though Amycus suspects that's because he doesn't have any. He’s still hesitating hiring somebody to research further, but something tells him not to. It’s more fun if he finds it out himself. “I’m good, let’s get started.”

Or at least he was so far. He knew this was coming, _the talk_ , the moment when he has to be completely honest about everything so his lawyer has all the elements and can assess the best angle to take. That particular discussion didn’t go very well with the solicitor, who started by accusing him of murder, which obviously got Amycus a little on edge. And there’s still the problem of not remembering what happened at all. He hasn’t really talked about it to anyone, either. Alecto’s been bugging him to have a talk, and they will, but he hasn’t been able to just yet. He knows that even if he did kill that girl, she'll be okay with it. Contrary to the rest of his family, she's always been on his side, and will always be, – besides her moral compass is probably even more broken than his. But right now, he still has trouble accepting the fact that he may have killed an eighteen-year-old girl. He knows he’s a shit person, but a murderer is something else.

 

* * *

 

Regulus can see the shift in his client's mood in an instant. The man’s eyes get darker, his whole body tensing up. Apparently, he hasn't quite made peace with being a killer yet. It's not really his problem as the plaque on his desk doesn’t say psychiatrist, and Regulus is known to be quite blunt with his clients. They don’t have the kind of timeframe that allows for bruised egos and soft treatment.

“I’m going to need you to be completely honest. Firstly I need to know of every single thing that happened that night, in details, up to the moment you got to your flat. Who did you speak to, what did you consume, who was at the party, who saw you, when did you take a piss, when exactly did you leave, who did you say bye to, and everything else you can remember, whether you think it relevant or not.”

After asking that, Regulus tries his best to turn invisible. It’s a technique he’s learnt over the years which usually allows the clients to be a little bit more honest. He grabs a pen and starts writing on the paper as his client describes the evening. Regulus doesn’t look at him, doesn’t interrupt. He’s thankful enough that Carrow isn’t throwing a tantrum and actually telling him what he needs to know, he’s not going to interrupt him now.

Regulus listens in silence as Amycus talks about going to the party and the people that were there as they both pointedly ignore that half of Reg’s family and childhood friends were among the list. Even though everything comes out reluctantly, Regulus is surprised by the man’s compliance. Then comes the moment where he meets the girl, and the words seem more complicated to get out. Amycus starts insisting more when talking about her interest in him, trying to justify taking her home, probably. He doesn’t even get as cocky about it as Regulus would expect. Finally the moment when they got to his flat and started drinking arrives, and then he stops talking. He still looks strong and uncaring about the whole thing, but there is something behind his eyes, pleading Regulus to believe… something.

He nods somewhat sympathetically, and a heavy silence settles into the room.

“Alright. I know now comes the complicated part, but if there is one person you can tell it to, it’s me. I am legally forbidden to ever repeat a word of it to anybody; my one goal is to make sure that no one knows it, or that at least you get away with it. But for that I need to know every single detail. I can’t afford to learn something on the stand. I need all the information beforehand, I need to have answers ready for anything they might throw at us. Your whole life is going to be out in the open for everyone to read, so me knowing about it really is the least of your problems.” Regulus almost smiles to himself, then, quite satisfied with himself. This was gentler than he is used to being; he’s quite proud of discovering that he can actually be quite sympathetic.

Amycus mumbles something, which Regulus can’t quite make out.  
“What was that ?”  
“I don’t know,” answer Amycus in a final tone.  
“What do you mean you don’t know?”  
“I mean I don’t fucking remember anything after that moment. All I know is that I was drinking champagne with a gorgeous girl in my flat and next thing I know I have the police dragging me out of bed and locking me up and nobody tells me anything for hours and then this fucking asshole tells me apparently I killed that girl, I didn’t even remember her name until he told it to me, and I don’t remember anything of the whole night, and how the fuck do you _forget murdering someone_ ?,” he asks, his voice dangerously rising, panic creeping in his voice.

Surprisingly enough, Regulus doesn’t… _not_ believe him. “So you’re saying you didn’t do it?”

“I have no fucking clue if I did it, but apparently the whole bloody country does so might as well admit it and get fucking done with it, right ?”

Amycus doesn’t look so composed anymore, his hands flailing around him and the panic and despair clear in his eyes. For a fragile second, Regulus actually feels something like sympathy for the young man. No matter how prejudiced Regulus might be about him, he’s always prided himself in never letting his job intertwine with his personal life and feelings. Amycus Carrow is still, objectively, an arrogant rich kid who has never had to work a day in his life, holds everyone with contempt and acts like a rebellious teenager despite being fifteen years too old for that. But these faults shouldn’t send him to prison for twenty years. And Regulus’ job as his lawyer is to believe what his client tells him – even though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d be lied to.

“Alright. I believe you,” he says even though he doesn’t yet, not completely. “Just so you know, this completely changes the investigation process. This means there might be something to find, more than just someone to pin this on. If you didn’t do it, it means we have a couple of weeks to find out who did. It means I’m going to spend less time searching for a way to actually defend you. If you did do it, telling me this is definitely not helping you.” Of course, even if the amnesia bit was true, Carrow might have still done it but simply blocked it from his memory. But that was for Regulus to figure out.

“We’re going to start again, you’re going to tell me exactly what you drank and took, and everyone you talked to who was into touching glance of your glass, who gave you the drugs... And most importantly I’ll have Emma make an appointment for you to take a blood test with a certified state agency as soon as you get out of here. I doubt any drugs will be left from a week ago, but we can always hope. Please tell me you haven’t taken anything since you got out,” Regulus suddenly remembers, sighing.

Amycus grins. “It’s your lucky day. I’ve been very clean.”

Right. Very lucky indeed, Regulus thinks as he sits back for a second, looking at the arrogant kid sitting in front of him, with bloodshot eyes and likely blood on his hands, before diving back in to make sense of what exactly happened on that night.


	6. Party of Two

No matter the bullets that life fired at him, Regulus has always dodged them. He moved out of the continent, accepted the fact that his brother wasn't his brother anymore, built a name for himself where it hadn't been soiled by his father, and still came back for his mother when she needed him. Of course, a life of dodging bullets is a lonely one. On his way, Regulus lost more people than he gained. He doesn't really mind, coming home to an empty house or never bringing a plus-one anywhere. After everything he’s been through emotionally, loneliness suits him just fine.

When he finally gets home that night, he collapses on the sofa. He's so tired, and not just from the day, or the week, or the case. It's been years since he took a real break that lasted more than a couple of hours. He turns the television on to a “Amycus Carrow – the descent into hell” special, which is just great. It's a lookback on the bloke’s life, or at least the interesting parts – meaning the list of his girlfriends and boyfriends, all the times he was arrested, did something scandalous like drugs or shoplifting, and unflattering pictures with a dramatic voice off relating “the worst moments of a young soul who got lost in the spotlight.”

Regulus doesn't like the guy, and yet he can’t help but clench his jaw, feeling defensive. Everything that’s being said may be true, but he just hates how everyone’s lashing out at him now when two weeks ago the whole city wanted to be him or be with him.

He turns the television off and decides to just go to bed, feeling worse than he has in weeks. Usually, working on a complicated case gives him too little time to dwell on… things. Yet for some reason the Carrow case isn’t really helping, it’s actually making things worse. Maybe because of all the connexions with his old world, whether it be with his brother, his cousins, even his own old friends. He knows Scarlette is close to Black, Cissy too – and that’s without even mentioning her being Malfoy’s fiancée. Just when he was finding his place again in the city, learning to forgive and slowly being forgiven by the people he used to hold dear, he’s thrown back in with the rest of the crowd, losing all footing.

 

* * *

 

Amycus punches the wall next to him, before doing something worse he’s going to regret. Alecto doesn’t even flinch, simply getting on with what she has to say. “Look, I know those are hard times. I’m not saying you’re not going through some shit. But you have to get it together, brother. As long as you refuse to talk to me, I’ll assume the worst and without any explanation for it, you’re not getting my pity nor my sympathy." She pauses for a second. "Now, mom has insisted you come with me, and I think it’s a very smart idea, so get your tux ready,” she adds in a final tone Amycus knows not to disobey, before disappearing from the room. The rest of the world may consider Alecto as the second child, the pin-up daddy’s girl without a brain, but she’s actually the smartest businesswoman of the Carrow clan, and one of the most dangerous human beings he’s come across. Today is not the day he is going to go against her will.

Even though her will is for him to go to some hung-up charity ball thing. Officially, his father – and by extension his mother – has completely stepped back from his case. His parents want nothing to do with him while he’s on trial, probably a desperate attempt at salvaging their political careers. He hasn’t even heard from his father. His mother hasn’t tried to contact him either, but for some reason he doesn’t feel as bitter about that. Not that they’re close – he quite despises her for the way she closed her eyes on the terrible things going on in their home for years. But he still has something like an unshakable respect for her – something he's never been able to muster for his father.

But this weekend, the Carrows are away for business, and his dear mother contacted Alecto with a demand. The parents were invited to a fundraiser for the symphonic orchestra; and not being able to make it, she thought it might be smart for Alecto and Amycus to use the two Carrow invitations themselves. While it doesn’t mean that the parents endorse their son, it still puts Alecto by his side and allows him to get back into society despite the trial going on in the background.

It’s objectively a good idea. He just hates it for so many reasons. Firstly, he abhors fancy balls, those awfully boring nights that are all about false smiles and judging everybody’s choice of clothes or gossiping on who comes alone and who brings a date. But going to one of those now of all times will be hellish. All attention will be on him. He’s already started noticing it; the hunger for gossip and information in people’s eyes when they talk to him; the new-born fascination, and even sometimes, the fear. Having grown up in this environment, he is used to the falseness, the malice in people’s demeanour, the bad intentions. It’s the fear that hurts. He’s always been the playboy everybody wanted to be around, he’s always been admired, loved, desired. Now people actually fear him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with this. He doesn’t know how to deal with the feeling of power those look bring him.

 

* * *

 

Regulus sighs, for what seems like the thousandth time this week. “I swear Mother, you look beautiful. Now can we _please_  go?” He’s standing outside of his mother’s chambers, in Grimmauld Place. He’s still not very fond of the place, but he can’t help the fact that it’s home, and it feels like it. As soon as he made enough money in the States, he came back to England to buy the house back for his mother. He didn’t really do it for her; mostly as a way to claim back what rightfully belonged to the Black name.

Finally she’s ready, beautiful and regal as always. It’s been a while since Regulus has seen his mother dressed up in a designer dress and fancy jewellery. Regulus may have worked his way back into London’s high society, but his mother hasn’t. She retired a marketing consultant, making a small pension that he completes with his own money every month so that she can live like she used to.

Tonight is the first time Regulus managed to convince her to accompany him to a function like the fundraiser they’re going to. He’s been invited to those since he got back to England, the smell of money and success drawing the big purses' eyes on him, and the added twist of scandal and gossip turning him into a desirable guest. He never brings anyone; publicly, Regulus Black is a lone wolf. But tonight is the first night of the next part of his plans. He has seduced high society with the lonely, mysterious and successful act; now, if he want the Black name to fully rise from the ashes, he has to fill the ranks. The first step to consolidating the new Black empire is reinstating Walburga as its rightful Queen.

As they drive through the London traffic, Regulus gets lost in thought looking out the window. No matter how controlled he appears, these nights are never easy for him. Everyone he used to know will be there, with their parents, their spouses, sometimes even their kids. Cissy will ignore him in public, which always hurts, Scarlette will find a moment to catch his eye and talk to him but not in front of her circle, and the looks of animosity from the new generation will burn his back everytime he shakes the hand of one of their parents. His money, success and discretion may have gained him the respect of the ruling generation, but their children still hold a grudge against the Black name. Mostly because if there are no Blacks to compete with, the spot on top is free for the taking. What they haven't yet realized is that he does not need to be in their circle of instagram famous drug addicts to land a spot o the top; by the time they inderstand that, it will hopefully be too late to do anything about it. 

No matter the bumps in their relationship, he’s quite thankful he will have his mother on his arm to help him through it. Her dry wit and contempt for these people will make the evening less painful. And indeed; the minute they get there, Regulus remembers why he wasn’t looking forward to it. He hates the people, the looks, the contempt in everyone’s eyes. He notices a couple of raised eyebrows upon seeing him with a lady at his arm – before said eyebrows raise even higher when they realize the lady is his mother. She hasn’t been to one of those events in over fifteen years. And just like that, he stops feeling sorry for himself and realizes what a step tonight must be for his mother; from her birth to her late thirties, this was her world. She was a queen among those people; she owned them, even. Every move she made was reproduced, every dress she wore was deperately looked for. She was a beautiful and regal woman; a born member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight who married into the Sacred Twenty-Eight; a mother to two smart boys, carrying with poise a name centuries old. People's head lowered when she entered these kinds of events. But then, someone was finally smarter than Orion and beat him; all hell broke loose, and she became a pariah. Regulus knows she despises these people, but he also knows that it is only out of resentment for what they did to her. She wasn’t born with the cynicism for that life the way Sirius and Regulus were. She belongs here, and she is claiming her rightful place with more ease than he could ever hope for.

After only a couple of minutes, he feels her relax; this is her scene, and she is unstoppable. She waltzes through the room, showing her peers no pettiness nor grudge but no real interest either.

When Narcissa catches sight of them, she turns around and goes the other way.

 

* * *

 

Amycus wants to kill someone. _Again_ , his brain supplies unnecessarily. Everything is horrible. The second he got out of the cab he was assaulted, by cameras, flashes and journalists, questions, old friends, new ones, whispers behind his back, people wanting to have a look at the murderer, people saluting his sister and ignoring him completely, and questions. Questions everywhere. It takes Alecto and him over an hour to simply reach their table, which was thankfully made of Lucius, Rab, and a few of their close friends, whom Alecto convinced to come so he wouldn’t feel too alone in this sea of opportunism.

By the time they get to their table, the boring speeches part is beginning, which means the food won’t be long. Still, Amycus can’t take anymore of the side glances from every side of the room. He needs to be alone for a while, and escapes discreetly to an upstairs bathroom where he’s sure not to be interrupted.

He needs to breathe, but he knows going outside is too dangerous because of the cameras everywhere. The empty bathroom he finds after walking around for a few minutes will have to do. Once inside, he undoes the first few buttons of his shirt and splashes his face with water. _Breathe in, and out._ The looks are turning him crazy. And the questions; everyone has something to tell him, a good word to put in or a mean side comment. They can’t leave him alone for one second; he wants to break something. Or someone. He is _not_ going to make it through the whole night. If it keeps going that way he w—

Somebody opens the door to the bathroom and storms in. Amycus looks at himself in the mirror then; he looks dishevelled, with bloodshot eyes and a panicked stare. He tries chasing the crazy from his face, so whoever came to take a piss won’t think he was planning tonight’s murder.

However, what he sees when he turns around takes a couple of seconds to register. There stands Regulus Black, angrily untying his bow tie, rubbing his face and sighing loudly. Apparently, he’s not the only one spending a shit night. He coughs, just because he has a feeling that his lawyer would want to know if someone was seeing him in that state. In their world, this is close to breaking down, and you don’t want anyone to see that. The man always has such a cold, composed demeanour – in the three times they’ve seen each other, he’s barely seen a flicker of emotion go through the man’s eyes. Something tells him that he wouldn’t want his client to see his mask falling like that. So no matter how curious he feels about the man, Amycus coughs to alarm him of his presence, because for some reason witnessing this uninvited doesn’t feel right.

Black turns around, and in half a second the mask is back up. He gains two inches, his hands are in his pockets, his eyes are cold and a smile dresses the corner of his lips. “Mr. Carrow, fancy seeing you here.”

Amycus can’t help but roll his eyes. They both know he’s seen all of that. “Right back at you.”

There’s a minute of awkward silence when the both of them realize they’re not ready to go back out there, and Black actually chuckles. “So how’s the night treating you?,” he asks finally.

Amycus doesn’t know where to begin, or what to say. He’s not friends with this man, he’s not planning on becoming so, but they did talk lengthy about Amycus’ moral compass and personal history; Black knows more about Amycus’ friends, fake friends and open enemies than most. It leaves them in a quite a weird place when they’re not within the walls of a law firm. Besides it’s extremely unilateral; Amycus doesn’t know the first personal thing about this man. At the same time, he can trust him more than almost anyone, if only because of a contract. In the end, he just shrugs; “At least I’m out of prison to see it, right?”

The shot-up eyebrows of the lawyer tell him that he’s surprised by this answer; Amycus himself is surprised, to be honest. He still has about fifteen minutes of rage in him to throw at people’s faces, and usually he would have insulted and bitten the head off whoever asking that kind of stupid question. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to lose face in front of Regulus Black.

“Fair enough,” Black answers.

“So what about you, what are you doing hiding here?,” he asks.

“I need a little break from my mother introducing me to every non-married woman under forty-five,” he chuckles. “She’s practically selling me off to anyone who will listen. It’s quite embarrassing.” Amycus snorts. He can’t really relate, because his mother gave up with him a long time ago, but she was the same with Alecto for many years.

“So, anyone caught your eye?,” he tries, hoping his voice sounds casual.

Regulus seems to ponder.

“I tend not to date within that circle, so I wasn't really paying attention,” he answers finally with a small smile. Amycus nods and drops the subject, feeling that he won’t get anything more out of the man tonight. They’re both too sober for that.

It’s Regulus who breaks the silence again. “Why’d you come here tonight? You knew people would most likely be pretty terrible, after… everything.”

Amlycus shrugs. “I have to get back out there one day, don’t I? Besides… Who knows, maybe this is one of the last event I can attend for the next few decades.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Regulus tries in order to lighten the mood, but somehow it sounds empty and they both know it.

Even though he would never say thank you, Amycus has noticed the work his lawyer put into his case. He’s doing his best and his best is quite impressive. Getting him out of prison in a couple of hours was something, for example. And Amycus doesn’t really have anything to do; Black calls him in when he needs some answers, he updates his client on the bare minimum, but for the rest Amycus is pretty free to do whatever the fuck he wants until the next step. Which happens to be in two days, but that’s a bridge he'll cross when he comes to it. 

But the more questions Regulus asks, the less Amycus wants to answer them. He’s spent a lot of time reflecting on everything lately, and the conclusions are not pretty. The more it goes, the more he thinks he actually did it. Without realizing he'd lost himself in thought, he hears himself blurting out : “What if I killed her?” Immediately he looks away, so as to not see the expression on his lawyer’s face at this admission. He doesn’t want to see agreement in those ice blue eyes.

There’s a silence, before the other man sighs. He walks around the bathroom, opening every stall to make sure that no one’s in there listening, which, yeah, _smart_. Black puts his hands in his pockets after putting his undone bow around his neck, and thinks for a second before answering. “If you killed that girl, I’ll do my job and try my best to make sure you escape prison.” A pause. “But the hardest job’s going to be on you. You’re the one who’s going to have to live with what you did.”

Amycus nods. So far, he’s been shielding himself from thinking about it as much as possible. But the few times he’s thought about himself being guilty were not pretty. He doesn’t think he has a problem with murder, per say. He’s not a murderer, but he’s not a saint, either. Yet now that something like this is in front of him, there’s just something about killing a young girl who just wanted to sleep with him and dumping her body outside, for no reason he can remember, that is more despicable than he thought himself capable of. It sounds like something his father would do; and this train of thought is a dangerous one.

Suddenly, they hear voices in the staircase leading up to the bathroom, and they both know that whatever was happening here is over. It’s a pity, Amycus catches himself thinking. There’s something nice about the way the two of them were standing in this fancy opera bathroom, leaning against the nineteenth century sinks, looking perfectly trim in their black tuxedos, holding decades-old whiskey glasses, their bow and tie undone. About their unguarded expressions and honest words.

Amycus walks out first, needing a moment alone before he can go back to the party. As his hand grabs the door handle, Black speaks up.

“Mr Carrow?,” he calls.

“Yes?”

“Good luck out there. If it’s going too bad, think of me having to face it all with my mother commenting on everything next to me,” he says with a chuckle.

Amycus answers with a tight smile. _Oh, I’ll think of you alright._


	7. On Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention/discussion of rape quite a few times

Even before opening his eyes, Regulus knows he fucked up. The warm ray of light hitting his closed lids is a tell-tale sign; he never wakes up late enough to feel the sun on his face, not anymore. He used to be one of those people who can’t be alive until half the day has already been wasted in bed, but drastic lifestyle changes fixed that. He hasn’t built a legal empire by sleeping until noon; and yet apparently, today he did, for the first time in months.

The headache that hits him the second he opens his eyes isn’t a good sign either; nor is the empty whiskey glass on the nightstand.

Regulus groans once, rubs his face and gets up, fighting the dizziness and choosing instead to focus on cleaning up the mess he made last night. He has always refused to be one of those dramatically self-destroying kids who grew up with too much money and too many expectations, drinking themselves into oblivion everytime life disappoints them; he’s not going to start today. Instead, whenever things don’t go his way he usually chooses to bury himself in work, social gatherings or other proactive tasks. As he cooks himself breakfast (because no matter how late he is by now, there is still no way he can start a day without eggs and coffee), he ponders on what the hell happened to make him slip like that.

Grand Jury for the Carrow case happened yesterday. Usually, Grand Jury is the moment when the prosecutor tries to prove to a jury that there is enough evidence against the accused to justify going to trial. While a pretty routine procedure, it can be decisive for some of Regulus’ clients; the man is so good, he can kill claims before they even make it to court. But he knew very well that because of the political sensitivity of the Carrow case, Grand Jury was about finding out the official charges against Amycus rather than hoping for any kind of clearing. Disappointingly but unsurprisingly, Regulus’ hotshot client is now officially being sued for second degree murder, a charge for which it’s almost impossible to escape prison.

But that’s not what pushed Regulus to finish his forty-year-old bottle of whiskey in one night. What truly pushed Regulus over the edge was the prosecutor bringing up evidence of the victim having been raped right before her death, and of Amycus’ DNA being found in the rape kit. After the hours spent together talking about that night, and the dozens of times his client has insisted on how much Miss Winterbottom wanted to go home with him, hearing these words was more of a blow to Regulus than he would have thought. When he realized the undeniable truth of what his client had done, he felt a strange mix of disappointment, anger, and sadness, something he hasn’t let happen in a very long time.

Regulus Black is in the business of defending the worst criminals and the best liars. He is used to being angry at the arseholes he has to deal with. He is used to being disappointed in their dishonesty towards their own lawyer. But he is not used to being sad at the realization that they are guilty. He never cares about them enough to feel any type of way, morally or emotionally, towards their actions. Regulus distances himself so much from his work that he usually doesn't even think about his clients during the few hours he spends not working.

And yet, he has been able to think of little else since hearing that Amycus Carrow was a rapist. He went home straight after court, pretending he had to re-caliber his strategy, and hasn’t talked to his client since, or anyone else for that matter. For some strange reason, he needs time to process an information that under normal circumstances would be nothing but a detail.

A lot of explanations can be found to justify why he suddenly cares so much about a relatively insignificant client’s case. Maybe it has something to do with defending a rapist, something he has never done and has always steered clear of -- quite a hard thing to do when you’re a defense lawyer for the entitled elite of England. Or maybe it has to do with the accused, someone whose company he’s come to enjoy, someone he realized isn’t as despicable as people seem to think, who did do something despicable after all. Maybe it’s because of the proximity to his old world, full of intimidation and secrets and entitled men who always get what they want. Either way, he hasn’t let a case get to him in such a way since his rookie years, and he has to get over himself, now.

He’s already wasted over twelve hours mulling all of this over, so now is the time to stop and start working on fixing this mess. He may not like it so much now that the stakes have changed, but clearing Amycus Carrow of all charges is still his job, and he is good at his job.

Once Regulus is done with breakfast and halfway through the day’s paper, he is finally ready for the long day waiting for him. But even in the shower, even with his head full of the day’s news and everything else he has to catch up on, there is one truth that simply won’t escape his mind: Amycus Carrow isn’t only a murderer, he’s also a rapist. And it’s Regulus’ job to make sure he gets away with it.

 

* * *

 

Amycus is lost, spiralling. He can’t seem to exit his own mind, he can’t seem to breathe properly, to make any sense of the raging thoughts invading his brain and reminding him of who he truly is.

All he can remember, again and again, is the exact moment he heard the accusation; the way the words echoed in his head until he could hear nothing else. “The prosecution would like to add rape to the list of charges, and will submit the victim’s rape kit, containing the DNA of Mr. Carrow, as official evidence to the case.” The words keep resonating in his head, as well as the look on his lawyer’s face when they echoed through the courtroom.

In that moment, when the bomb was dropped and the world knew that there was scientific evidence proving that Amycus Carrow was a rapist, everything in his world exploded. All hell broke loose inside his mind. And yet, despite the panic rising in the audience, despite the journalists’ cameras flashing and their hungry questions ringing through the room when everyone realized what the words meant, all Amycus can remember is the flicker of emotion he caught in Black’s eyes. Usually so controlled and poised, the lawyer hadn’t been able to keep from looking at his client; and in that one exchange of looks more was said than in any conversation the two men have ever had. Amycus may not be the best at deciphering emotions, but he knows what he saw. Hurt. Betrayal. Disappointment, so bitter that he could not focus on anything else for the rest of the session and remembers nothing from it but a blur. Disappointment so deep that Amycus suddenly wanted to do anything in his power to fix whatever he had broken between him and Black. Something told him that would never happen.

After the court session, Amycus headed straight home, not able to say a word to anybody, running away from the people and the noise and the fear, all the while hearing the words of the prosecutor in his head on a loop. When he got home, he drowned a fourth of a bottle of Bourbon before even taking his shoes off. After that, he has barely any recollection of what happened, but he can easily guess. He remembers muting his phone and turning the telly on in the background, everything in his head too loud, wanting nothing but to silence the treacherous thoughts that kept plaguing him. As he drank and drank, he could not stop thinking about the fact that he was the kind of scum who raped random girls, before killing them and dumping their body. He kept repeating these words to himself; _rapist, murderer, arsehole, scum. Rapist._  trying to come to terms with what kind of man he really was, and failing, and drinking it away.

He must have dozed off then, in the middle of his self-hating spiral, because his phone is now showing seven in the morning, and someone is banging at the door. He has a headache that feels like it could split cement, and the floor around the sofa on which he threw himself last night is littered with empty bottles and chipped glasses. He tries and fails to throw a shoe at the door, wanting whoever is knocking to go the fuck away. Today is not a day for thinking, or even for being alive at all. Today is a day for self-pity and drowning out memories of freedom.

After a while the knocking stops, only to be replaced by a key turning inside the hole and the door opening to the sight of a very angry Alecto. She takes one look at him though, and the anger on her face turns into pity. Without a word, she starts clearing the glasses and bottles he drowned throughout the night, opens the curtains and the windows, turns the telly off and puts his living room back in order, turning to him last with a sigh, annoyed again. Amycus groans. He simply can’t deal with a lecture right now.

“I don’t know how to deal with this yet, but we’re going to get through it, and I’m on your side, okay?,” she says, softer than he expected her to, looking down at the mess that he is.

At this moment, Amycus realizes he can’t do it, and he feels something that’s been breaking inside of him for the past couple of weeks finally shatter. Virtually everyone has left his side but this woman; this woman who survived sexual abuse at the end of her own family, and who is still standing up for him, knowing what he’s done.

He can’t do this to her, to all the pain she has gone through. He won’t be the man his father is. In any other circumstances, Amycus wouldn’t hesitate to save his own skin and move on; but he can’t allow the kind of person who hurt his sister so badly to go free. Not when he knows the pain she keeps feeling everyday when she sees the one who destroyed her walk freely, loved and respected.

As he thinks that, he realizes how much his sister would despise him if she heard that, because she doesn’t need his self-righteousness for justice to be made. She doesn’t need to be saved. She wasn’t destroyed by what happened to her. And he’s back to feeling like the world’s worst arsehole.

Still, he has to do this. He deserves this. At least one Carrow will go down for their crimes.

Maybe it’s something in the DNA.

“Just let it go, Alecto. Leave me the fuck alone. I’m going to prison, so start forgetting about me already,” he answers aggressively.

He can see in her eyes that she hesitates for one second. She doesn’t know what to do with him. She’s dealt with him after a night spent drowning his sorrows in alcohol, after a night spent in jail, after making a big mistake, but rarely to this level of synchronicity. “Look, Am, I need you to pull your weight here. You’re not going to prison. You wouldn’t last a second in there,” she tries to lighten the mood.

“Alecto, don’t make it harder than it has to be. I deserve this. Don’t side with me on this. Keep your reputation, keep your friends. I’ll just serve my time, pay my dues, and come back in thirty years if Black can do his job right.”

A heavy silence settles between them. Amycus isn’t usually a defeatist. He’s always the one who wants to go down fighting, who wants to charge at the problem and tackle anything that comes his way with a good fight. His sister isn’t used to having to do all the fighting herself, and he knows that. She’s a fighter alright; but she’s the rational one. Her cold manipulations are always fuelled by his anger.

This time, he won’t fight.

She walks away from him without adding another word, having realized she wouldn’t get anything else out of him for the time being. When she’s about to close the door behind her, she adds over her shoulder: “I don’t care what you think you deserve. You’re not going to prison on my watch. I don’t care what you’ve done or what you think you’ve done. You’re my brother.”

 

* * *

 

Regulus is buried deep into an abusive corporation’s labor laws, doing the work paralegals should be doing to occupy his mind, when Emma rings him with surprising news: “Alecto Carrow is here to see you.”

He tells her to let her in, organizedly sorting through the mess he made on his desk, wanting to look as professional as possible, in case the all-mahogany corner office with a view of all of London weren’t enough. He hasn’t talked to Alecto Carrow in years; probably since they were children, which leaves them in quite an awkward place. He’s seen her from afar, because no one can not see her; beautiful, cold Alecto Carrow. The smart one, the rational one, the one keeping all those boys alive and afloat, he’s sure.

He knows very well why she’s in his office now, but he welcomes her with a guarded smile anyway. “Mrs. Carrow, what a pleasure. What can I do for you?”

She smiles at him, perfectly composed. “Mr. Black. Long time no see.” She looks around his office for a second. “I trust you’re doing well,” he nods, knowing that’s neither here nor there, and sure enough, she starts again after a second. “While I would enjoy catching up, I’m afraid I’m here on official business.” He doesn’t react and lets her proceed, as he already knew that.

“I’ve come to talk about my brother’s Grand Jury, and the ensuing rape accusation. My brother doesn’t seem to believe you’re going to clear him, but I do. And I trust that the check we’re writing will be incentive enough.” Regulus doesn’t really say anything, simply amused that she would think paying his regular fee somehow makes the Carrows special. Still, he invites her to seat down and proceed.

“To begin with, I can produce a dozen witnesses who saw Miss Winterbottom all over my brother for the whole night. There is no way she was raped, not by him. She was begging him to go home with her, and he almost reluctantly agreed, he was so pissed. If anything happened that night, it was him feeling like he had to take her to bed because of all the expectations on the playboy persona; not the other way around.”

Regulus sighs. He knows all too well about that side of the coin. “I believe you, just like I believed him and all the other witnesses when they said the same thing. But scientific evidence does not lie. Miss Winterbottom was raped, and your brother’s fresh DNA was found inside her body.” He decides to put it bluntly, because they have no time to lose, and he knows Alecto Carrow can take it.

“Moreover,” he continues, “there is a difference between wanting to be seen leaving a party in Amycus Carrow’s car, and actually wanting to have sex with him behind closed doors, especially when you’re an eighteen year-old wannabe model. Maybe once they were alone, once she’d been noticed, she wasn’t so interested in Mr. Carrow anymore, and he didn’t quite like that. You more than anyone would know of his temper, and something tells me your brother isn’t the kind of man who hears ‘no’ often.”

He can see that the woman facing him is trying hard to bring rational arguments to the conversation, instead of losing her calm and insulting him for what he is implying about her brother. But she is a smart lady, and she knows Regulus has no interest in sabotaging Amycus’ case. As far as his legal reputation goes, he is of famously low morals when it comes to the people he defends, so he would not care for it. Moreover, he has a career and a name to maintain, which means no matter the case he takes on, his only interest lies in winning it. And Amycus’ friends were the ones to come to him, not the other way around -- they were the ones who wanted him involved. They need him way more than he needs their money. She knows he will do his best to clear her brother’s name; but the best way for that to happen is if everyone stops fooling themselves on who the man really is.

“Look, that’s bullshit,” she answers after a few seconds. “This is Amycus we’re talking about, everyone wants to have sex with him. No way she changed her mind behind closed doors, she was literally drooling all over him.”

Regulus can’t disagree with the heart of the matter; even he is prone to staring at Mr. Carrow’s body a little too intensely sometimes and imagining what he would do if it ended up under his own. But he also can’t let a statement like the one she just made slide. He raises a brow and cuts her off.

“Are you saying that because your brother is so attractive, he’s entitled to every piece of non-consensual arse he wants, that he can take advantage of every teenager with a crush on him, because they probably wanted it anyway? Are you saying that the internal bleeding tissue was just her searching for attention? Because I’m not so sure this argument is going to work on a jury that already hates your brother and wants to see him rot in jail forever, Mrs. Carrow. An eighteen-year-old girl was killed, a nobody from the suburbs, a daughter, a sister, a girl everyone in the jury will relate to. I don’t think your brother’s fitness is going to help his defense much.” He sighs, silent for a second, realizing getting worked up about this is absolutely unproductive.

He can’t hide the contempt at the words that are about to come out of his mouth.“Look, believe me, I know a thing or two about sexual abuse. And I know more than a thing or two about my job. So I’m telling you, considering how the public opinion already feels about your brother, the only way to justify the rape is to destroy Lily Winterbottom, not to glorify your brother. Making people hate this girl is what we should be focusing on. So we can talk strategy all you want, I can update you if you ask me to, but save your pleading tirades for depositions.”

Alecto sighs, thinking for a second. But just when he starts thinking he made her understand that she has to let him do his job without interfering, she shakes her head, not seeming very affected by the words she just heard.

“That’s not what I mean. Look, Regulus, can I call you Regulus?” she doesn’t let him answer. “You of all people, you know our world. You stay on the margin of it for a reason. You know that despite what the tabloids say and however public opinion feels,” she says with disdain, “nothing is ever just a party or just a one-night stand. You know how everything is always a ploy to gain influence or leverage. It comes with the territory. Take you for example; you act all righteous and too good for this world. We both know that’s bullshit, we both know you could be one of us with one well-handled move. You’re only stalling because you have something bigger up your sleeve, and because you want to aim for the very top where you think your father’s throne is waiting for you.” He’s about to cut her off, not seeing how his personal scheme to gain power and bring destruction has anything to do with her brother, but she waves him off.

“I’m not done. I don’t really care about your game right now. I’m just trying to make you remember -- everything in our life is a move. Every single thing that happens is a powerplay. In the middle of all that, you have my clueless brother. He may be a brainless arse, but the worst thing he’s ever done was shout “fuck the police” while on coke.” Not exactly true, but Regulus lets it slide. He’s beginning to see her point.

“Now one night, at a party, he goes to bed with a girl after drinking some Bourbon and snorting some coke, something that has happened a million times before, without anything going astray. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember a thing, which has never occurred despite all the shit he’s consumed in his life. Strange, you might say.” She pauses, probably for dramatic effect. “Not only that, but when he wakes up, he is on trial for rape and murder, he has lost all his friends, his status, his parents, his money, and there’s an empty spot at the top of the pyramid, two if you count the fact that if I stand by him I’m done too. Amycus Carrow going to prison for a couple decades is going to do a lot of people a lot of good. Way more good than killing that girl might have ever done him. He’s not a rapist, and even if he was -- why in hell would he kill her, when we both know people like you and him get away with rape like it’s a speeding ticket?” She says that last sentence with disdain, but he can’t blame her for the accusation. He knows too much about the truth behind the statement, even though she would be surprised to know on which side of it he stands.

Regulus sighs, sitting back in his chair and looking over the woman's shoulder. She could be right, but she’s also dangerously hopeful. Does he care enough to figure it out, though? Is this arrogant, entitled heir worth putting so much effort into uncovering a conspiracy, probably perpetrated by another one of his own arrogant, entitled friends?

“Look, there may be a fifty percent chance that this is all a big plot against your brother, as opposed to him just being a criminal. If it is, I only have one month to figure it out and find hard evidence to prove it in court. But you and I both know, the bigger ones never get found out. Real justice is rarely made in a court of law. And pulling off a rape and murder charge on Amycus Carrow must come from someone that will not be easily caught with a little P.I. work. I just don’t think it’s worth trying to uncover. Either I lose one month trying to find the conspiracy and have no time to prepare for the real battle, or I spend one month preparing an iron defense, doing my best to keep a young man who made one mistake out of prison.”

Saying this out loud makes him realize something. While he will never let it show that Alecto might have changed his mind in any way, she did. Up to this morning, he was so hurt and inexplicably disappointed at the discovery of the rape kit, that he got lost in his conviction that Amycus Carrow was a rapist, and tried to deal with that new information as well as he could. Not once has he really, honestly looked into the possibility of it being a ploy to make Carrow fall from his throne. A lot of people can gain from this trial. And it’s true that Amycus’ alleged behavior is irrational at best, worthy of a low-life kid on drug, not of the man he has heard so much about. So many things don’t add up; the memory loss alone proves that there is something bigger happening. It could have never happened with only alcohol and cocaine in his blood -- which means someone wanted him to lose consciousness, which means it was probably all planned.

Regulus of all people should know that even the most scientifically, rationally and morally proven things can turn out to be the artificial construction of powerful people who want you to disappear.

After a silence, Alecto grinds her teeth. “Look. My brother didn’t do this. He could never have done this, no matter how high or drunk or horny. He would never have raped that woman. The reason I didn’t come to you before is because I wasn’t sure he hadn’t killed that girl, so I just thought I would let you do your job well and find a way to clear him. But now that the rape thing has got out I know it’s more than that. I know someone is pinning this on him. He could do a lot of terrible things, my brother - but he would never rape anyone. This I can swear to you. There is something bigger, and I need you to find it, because right now Amycus is drowning in sweat and whiskey, convinced he’s a rapist and a murderer.”

Regulus sighs, realizing that the cold and careless demeanour is getting harder and harder to hold on to. “What if I can’t prove it?,” he asks, his voice weaker than he hoped for, realizing just how terrified he is that his skills won’t be enough to uncover what is really going on, if something really is going on.

Alecto answers right away, “All I want is for him not to go to prison in thirty days, and if you think the only way to do this is by defending the charges directly, I will do my best to trust you’re working for him and not against him,” she said with a meaningful look. “Pin this on someone else, plead insanity, I don’t care. Just get him cleared. Don’t make me hold a grudge against you.” She sighs. “We’re up against some very dangerous people, if they managed to make a simple murder trial come so fast. There’s something to find, and they’re doing everything they can so we don’t have time to find it. Which is why getting out of this trial free is the most important and challenging thing for now. We can worry about understanding everything else later. But still... if there is any chance of you finding the truth and exposing it, you have to. You have to try. I know my brother. Even if he’s cleared by some skillful legal maneuver on your part, thinking he did this will destroy him. And then they’ll have won anyway.”

Before he can say anything, Alecto Carrow is already walking away from him; she made her point. In her wake, a heavy silence settles. Regulus doesn’t know what to do. Ever since he heard the news, he’s been shielding himself from the possibility of it being anything else than his arsehole client just doing an arsehole thing. He’s been trying to distance himself from the cognitive dissonance plaguing his mind, opposing the wrenching realization that Amycus Carrow is a rapist and a murderer and the conviction that the man he got to know would never be able to do something like that. After the conversation he just had, he knows he has to pick a side for good.

Either he does his best to defend his client by finding a loophole to clear him of the charges and turned this into an unsolved case, or he starts a whole investigation to find out who orchestrated something like that to pin on Amycus Carrow and bring forward his fall from grace. This would mean assuming that Amycus Carrow is truly innocent, despite scientific evidence of the opposite and a complete lack of alibi; this would mean basing his entire legal work on trusting a man who hasn’t even bothered to contact him since the rape kit got out.

He is about to take the emotionally easy way out, to simply do his job as a defense lawyer and forget about overarching ploys, when Regulus’ eye catches on the ring on his right hand. The one given to him by his father, the one that represents everything he once was and has a claim to, everything that it means and has ever meant to be a Black. Suddenly Regulus is thrown back to his teenage years, remembering why he left the country.

Not because he was scared of living as a pariah, or because English society didn’t want him any longer. He left to for his safety, to disappear from the enemies who wanted to destroy the remaining Black threat; he left to gain resources and power, enough to one day come back and uncover who really killed his father. The whole arc of his life and its new-found objective is to disentangle the conspiracy that destroyed his family’s life and cost his father’s. The goal he has given himself is to expose the people who caused the death of the most powerful man of London over fifteen years ago. Is he really going to back down from this one challenge, when someone else is on the verge of losing everything because his power makes some jealous? He may not think highly of Amycus Carrow or of the ways he inherited his own wealth and power, but Regulus Black himself was a pretty despicable brat when he lost everything. No one deserves to go what he went through to realize what really matters in the grand scheme of things.

He thinks of Amycus Carrow, and of the slow descent into hell awaiting the man if he and the rest of society think he raped and killed that girl. The memory loss is simply too convenient. The tell is too perfect. He thinks of the man with bloodshot eyes and shaky hands in the toilets of the opera house. He thinks of Alecto Carrow, who thought her brother could kill, but who swore he would never rape. And with that in mind, Regulus makes a decision, for the first time in years, based on guts instead of rationality.

He decides to save the man and not the case.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Regulus is wearing one of his best suits and entering a fancy London restaurant. The knot in his stomach is such, he wants to throw up an run away. He hasn’t felt this bad, this out of control, in years. He promised himself that he would never be in this position again, but his client needs him, and this meeting will help the case.  
.  
Being recognized by the waiter, he is led to a table in a corner, where another man is already sitting. Brown haired, brown eyed, beautiful, disgusting. Even though he expected it, the pang to his chest when he sees Avery is more painful that Regulus could have prepared for. He wants to vomit, to run, to scream; but he is not the same boy who crossed paths with the man years ago, and he sits calmly.

“I thought I’d never see you again. You look good,” says Avery matter-of-factly.

“I seem to recall you owing me a favor,” Regulus points out. Neither of them mentions the terrible circumstances that led to that favor, nor the fact that Avery will forever be indebted to Regulus.

Avery coughs. “Indeed I do. What can I do for you?”

_Amycus fucking Carrow better be worth the pain._


End file.
